A404 
been distinguished in the Triads, and: 
other ancient Welsh records, where 
“ Ancurin of the flowing muse,” and 
“ Aneurin, monarch of the bards,” are 
his ordinary appellations. 
Such is the outline, which the few 
notices that time has left us enable me 
to give you, of the life of the Ottadi- 
nian bard ; and, when you reflect upon 
the remoteness of the age in which he 
lived, and on its unenlightened and 
turbulent character, you will allow 
that much more could hardly have 
been expected. The poems ascribed 
to Aneurin are two,—the Gododin, and 
the Odes of the Months. The first of 
these is the one I have already alluded 
to, in which he sings of the battle of 
Cattraeth, so fatal to the indepen- 
dance of his country. This is the only 
Welsh poem which has any pretension 
to an epic character, and even that 
not according to the rules laid down 
by Aristotle and Bossu. It is more 
properly an heroic poem, consisting of 
a series of encomiastic or elegiac stan- 
zas, in which the bard celebrates his 
fellow-chieftains who fell in the cala- 
mitous fight. These he represents as 
amounting to 363; and it is thought 
by some that the number of stanzas in 
the poem at first corresponded with 
that of the chieftains. If so, the Go- 
dodin, as we now have it, forms but a 
fragment of the original production ; 
and from some internal evidence, to 
be found in the occasional abruptness 
and obscurity of the poem, this ap- 
pears to be very probable. But I can- 
not.give you a more accurate idea of 
this ancient relic (for its genuineness 
seems unquestionable,) than what you 
may derive from a passage in Mr. 
Turner’s able ‘“ Vindication of the 
Welsh Bards,” which I shall therefore 
transcribe. 
“The Gododin of Aneurin, (says 
Mr. Turner,) the longest of the ancient 
British poems, is a very distinguished 
monument of antiquity, and its inter- 
nal evidence is peculiarly strong. It 
is not of easy construction, because 
its text is much injured, and because 
it contains much lyric measure, inter- 
mixed with the full heroic rhyme, and 
with the singular ornaments of Welsh 
poetry. The expressions are often- 
times very concise, its transitions very 
rapid and frequent, its diction strong 
and figurative, and sometimes. made 
more difficult, by the peculiar com- 
pound terms, in which the poet in- 
dulges, and which the Welsh language 
Tudor’s Letters on Wales. 
[Dec. 1, 
with great facility admits. Though 
an heroic poem of 920 lines with one 
subject, it exhibits a strong character 
of genuine unpolished irregularity. It 
has no elegant or artificial invocations. 
The bard was a warrior, and had 
fought in the conflict he describes. 
He was commemorating friends and 
fellow-soldiers: he had to state what 
he saw. There is, thercfore, no re- 
flective or refined address; he bursts 
at once into his subject, and begins 
by describing, not his plan or purpose, 
but one of his heroes.” ' 
This, then, is the Gododin; and you 
will adinit, that a poem written on 
such a plan, and with so little art, 
whatever may be its merit as a poe- 
tical work, cannot fail to be of some 
value as an historical record. As Mr. 
Turner alludes to the opening lines, 
I cannot resist the temptation offered 
by the occasion to introduce them to 
your acquaintance in a metrical: Eng- 
lish version, for all the imperfections 
of which you must hold me respon- 
sible :— 
Lo! the youth, in mind a man, 
Daring in the battle’s van! 
See the splendid warrior’s speed, 
On his fleet and thick-maned steed, 
As his buckler, beaming wide, 
Decks the courser’s slender side, 
With his steel of spotless mould, 
Ermin’d vest and spurs of gold. 
Think not, youth, that e’er from me 
Hate or spleen shall flow to thee: 
Nobler meed thy virtues claim, 
Eulogy and tuneful fame. 
Ah! much sooner comes thy bier 
‘han thy mapelel feast, I fear 5 
Ere thou mak’st the foeman bleed, 
Ravens on thy corse shall feed. 
Owain, lov’d companion, friend, 
To birds a prey,—is this thy end? 
Tell me, steed, on what sad plain 
Thy ill-fated lord was slain ? 
The commencement of the poem, you 
perceive, is in the lyric measure. I 
will now give you an example or two 
of the “full heroic rhyme,” as Mr, 
Turer calls it, in which the poem is 
priucipally written; and, in order to. 
make the first of the following pas- 
sages more intelligible, I should pre- 
mise that the disastrous result of the 
battle of Cattraeth is ascribed to the 
state of inebriety in which the Britons 
took the field, a circumstance of 
which the poet scarcely loses sight 
throughout the whole poem :— 
At Cattraeth’s scene of blood, when told by fame, 
Humanity will long deplore the loss ; q 
A throne with nought to sway, a murky soil. 
Godebog’s proyveny, a faithful band, 
“On biers are borne, to glut the yawning grave. 
Wretched their doom, yet true the destiuy 
Erst sworn to Tudvoleh and to Cyvolch proud,— 
That, though by blaze of torch they quaff’d clear 
mead, 
Though sweet its taste, its curse should long be felt. 
I shall next translate a passage, 
which 
